The alley Atieno pointed toward was narrower than I expected, a shadowed corridor squeezed between rusted metal sheets and uneven wooden boards. Faint light spilled from cracks in the makeshift walls, glowing like slivers of gold against the dark.

I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Children laughed somewhere behind me. A radio played a Swahili gospel song in the distance. But here, the air felt still, heavy, watching.

I walked slowly, careful not to trip over exposed wires or buckets ...